


indulgent

by jasminetea



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Charlotte Xavier - Freeform, College, Cooking, Dinner, F/M, Sexual Harassment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-25
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2017-11-12 21:46:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/495978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jasminetea/pseuds/jasminetea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik cooks Charlotte dinner, and although she can't allow herself to, she wonders if she could love him.</p><p>Scenes from an AU where Kurt wants the Xavier family wealth, and to do so, he plans to marry Charlotte by holding Raven hostage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted for [this](http://xmen-firstkink.livejournal.com/7736.html?thread=15193912#t15193912) prompt on the kink meme. The general premise is that Kurt wants the Xavier family wealth, and to do so, he plans to marry Charlotte by holding Raven hostage. As per the prompt, this contains references to sexism/misogyny, wife husbandry, dubcon, and incestual overtones.
> 
> The prompt taps into my love of Robin McKinley's _Donkeyskin_ among other things. This is influenced by [this](http://archiveofourown.org/works/100659) piece by [seekergeek](http://archiveofourown.org/users/seekergeek/). I may or may not write more for this; if I do, additions will be uploaded to the meme before here. WIP thread [here](http://xmen-firstkink.livejournal.com/4172.html?thread=19909452).

From her seat at the table Charlotte watches Erik move about the kitchen and doesn't know what to feel.

(She does.  She just doesn't want to acknowledge it. But lying to herself has never been a gift she could afford.  So for now she will watch and delay the truth just a bit more.)

She leans her cheek against her propped arms, her elbows against the tablecloth--yes, a _tablecloth_ \--and the bones of her hands press into her teeth.

The smell of cooked meat fills the room, and the pasta boils happily in its pot. Erik adds extra salt to the water, and tastes it with a spoon. She ponders his hands at work and observes how each joint moves like an orchestra.

She sits there, just staring as he finishes cooking.

(Erik is different.  Odd.  He is nothing of what she expects in a man, and all she can do is eye him afar and wait for him to reveal what lies underneath this kindness, because it cannot last.)

When he started dinner, he offered to turn the TV on for her, but she said she liked watching people. _I like watching you._ And he shrugged and started chopping onions. He didn't ask her for help, didn't _expect_ anything at all. So when he sets the plate of steaming food in front of her from her right and sits himself next to her, she's stunned into silence. There are a thousand things she should've done, but hasn't, but he has, and she feels...

Her heart beats faster, and this is dangerous.

"You don't like it?" He's watching her now, and she realizes she's glaring at her plate like it holds the secrets to Erik's behavior.

"No, no." She picks up her utensils and sets the paper napkin across her lap. She takes a small bite of the pasta. "It's great."

He starts eating--she's feels a bubble of warmth that he waited for her to take the first bite--and once she realizes he isn't waiting for her to ask how his day was, ask after every minutiae of his day, she eats with a ferociousness she knows her stepfather would never approve of.

(He wouldn't approve of her alone with a man.  She is a temptation.  She is to remain clean for the day her stepfather pushes his ugly penis inside her vagina.)

When they finish, Erik doesn't wait for her to wash the dishes either. He even resists her offer to dry the dishes, despite her insistence.

He puts the plates back in their proper place and then asks, "You should come back next Friday; I'll be making pana cotta then."  Erik looks at her with a genuine smile, wiping his hands dry on a towel.  She feels full, happy, not just content, and giddy with the opportunity to make her own choices.

Charlotte wonders if this is what her life should be like.

Erik is both strange and wonderful. When she's around him, she feels right. He doesn't expect her to do things just because she's a woman, he doesn't resist doing what her stepfather sneeringly calls women's work, and he _listens_ to her when they play chess. He's absolutely dangerous, and with Raven depending on her, an indulgence Charlotte cannot afford.

"No," and she says with all the coldness people believe she harbors in her heart.  She collects her purse and leaves, not wanting to see Erik's disappointment.

Still, she wonders what it would be like to let herself fall in love with this man.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt tries to seduce Charlotte.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, I seem to be incapable of writing minifills and leaving them as one-offs. no promises on how many updates; the only promises I can offer is how utterly unlinear I write. things will be linear when/if I post elsewhere though. this takes place after the initial minifill.
> 
> for the creepy seduction scene of the prompt.

Upon returning to the Estate for winter holiday, she goes immediately to her room, hoping to avoid Kurt. Her bedroom has always been the one place he dared not enter; she doesn't know why, but she doesn't question it.  
  
One of the servants has already brought her travel bag and left it by the wardrobe. Exhausted from the flight, she turns to her bed.  
  
Spread out upon the bed is a red dress. It's a flattering, beautiful dress, no doubt. Its skirt is full, the cloth finely cut. Charlotte turns the dress over to see its front, only to discover it is a backless thing, and what she thought was the back is really a deeply plunging V-neck that will display her breasts like a sumptuous feast.  
  
She feels sick.  
  
There's a card pinned at the base of the slipper, and Charlotte knows there is only one man who would send her this.  
  
Against the glossy finish, and in raised font, are the initials _K.M._ The message is as clear as if he were there, his hand on her shoulder, his voice whispering in her ear.  
  
_Wear the dress tonight. Do not disappoint me._  
  
There will be a party tonight, at 5pm sharp, as all his parties are. Sleep will have to wait; she has scented oils to bathe in, lotions for her skin, her hair to coif, makeup to do, perfume to wear.   
  
Kurt expects nothing less of her.  


* * *

  
The party is a trial, as it always is. The guests complement her, she returns them with empty platitudes and even emptier smiles. They can't tell the difference though. They talk of politics, of science and their wives, of restaurants and sex and dinosaurs. Charlotte knows more than they do, would love to speak, to argue, but Kurt expects her to be silent. Charlotte remembers Raven, kept to her room, away from this, and holds her tongue.  
  
It is not their words that leave her uncomfortable, it is their eyes. The dress is a perfect fit, and they look at the expanse of chest revealed by her dress whenever they think she won't notice, and even when they know she does. They wink, they smile, they make those little comments to Kurt.  
  
Charlotte wishes to be anywhere but here. She wants to be at a kitchen table again, with pasta boiling on the stove, with a man whose hands have never touched her in anger...  
  
She is relieved when the party ends and the guests leave. It's an instinctive response; a source of her discomfort is gone, therefore she feels relief. It's short-lived, because she knows what comes next.  
  
Kurt grabs her elbow and pulls her through the halls and up the stairs and through the doorway to his study.  
  
She thinks she isn't resisting, but he says, "I'm inviting you up for a nightcap, Charlotte, don't be such a frigid bitch." She lets her body go loose, and she follows him.  
  
He releases her and she smoothes the dress as she takes her seat across from him. Charlotte used to play chess with her father on this table, but now Kurt pours her a glass of scotch on it.  
  
He throws his tumbler back. She watches him. "Aren't you going to drink that?"

He gets up, trailing his fingers along the polished wood of the table. He starts circling her chair.  
  
"You know, Charlotte, I'm glad we can spend this time together. You and I, alone. No one else, not your mother, not your sister, not those pigs I invite into this house." His hand moves from her armrest to high on her thigh, squeezing it to make his point.  
  
"You're the only one who understands me and my needs." He's standing in front of her now, leaning into her neck and breathing her in. His breath moves her hair, and he re-arranges her hair to his liking, stroking the curls, and pushing his nose further into her, until his lips are against her pulse.  
  
"You're even more beautiful than your mother." His hand moves up her thigh, his fingertips drawing a line that will lead to the apex or thighs. Her breathing comes fast, Charlotte keeps her stare straight ahead.  
  
"You want this, don't you? It's perfectly natural for a have appetites... It's _un_ natural for a woman of your age to have not indulges... I know I have indulgences..."  
  
Charlotte can't help herself, her body tenses, her thighs clenching and trapping Kurt's hand between it.  
  
He pulls back, his face cloudy.  
  
He doesn't stop looking at her. "I said, aren't you going to finish that drink?"   
  
He turns from her and picks the glass up, rimming the edge with his fingers. "Or maybe it isn't to your liking?"  
  
He takes a gulp and doesn't swallow, leaning forward towards her with his hideous face...  
  
Someone's knocking at the door. The servant calls, "Master Marko? Henry's at the door. He says you have his watch."  
  
Kurt curses, swallowing the liquor, and going to answer the door.  
  
Charlotte is gone before Kurt thinks to turn around.  


* * *

  
Erik answers his door showing clear signs of sleep. His pants are flannel, he doesn't have a shirt, and he's rubbing his eyes, squinting from the light.  
  
"Charlotte?"  
  
She can tell he's confused by her appearance this late at night. It's to his credit, he looks genuinely concerned; his gaze doesn't rake her body in the red dress; he sees her.  
  
"Are you alright? You don't look like yourself..." And now he looks at her made-up, but there really is nothing but concern there.  
  
Charlotte's heart beats fast. She licks her lips. She wants to say, _I want to be here, not there. I want to be with you._ There's so much she wants to tell him. _I'm safe with you, I want to follow this thing between us to its end, don't leave me alone with him._ Instead, she says, "Invite me in. Please."  
  
He's puzzled, his eyebrows quirking. He must see something, because he moves out of the doorway.  
  
"Come in," he greets.  
  
And she does.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He meets Charlotte when he's drowning in the pool.

Erik had never given Charlotte Xavier much thought until she pulled him for the deep-end of the pool as he struggled to tread water.  
  
He'd been in an argument over the final project to fluid mechanics when his classmate told him he needed to cool it and pushed him in. What ensued were some of the most terrifying moments of his life as he felt his clothes weigh him down, and although he knew he needed to stop struggling to float, he couldn't stop the frantic pumping of his limbs trying to keep his head above water.  
  
He could hear the distant sounds of his classmates yelling ("Lehnsherr can't swim!" "This is your fault!"), but above all he could hear his own heartbeat, his gasping breaths, and his splashing. Or perhaps, not just his splashing as someone grabbed hold of him.  
  
"Calm down," she said. "I'm here with you, you're not alone. Calm, calm."  
  
Taking in water, he swallowed and blinked past the water. She continued to murmur to him, and then she was pressing his hand to the wall. "See, we've got you. Up you go."  
  
He clambered up the side of the pool and she followed him up, looking like some sort of sea creature in her lab coat, turned translucent enough in the water he could see the gold blouse she wore beneath it.  
  
Pressing his hand to the concrete, he began coughing, and he could hear her yelling.  
  
"What do you mean you didn't know he could swim? Why would you do something -- "  
  
The din was giving him a headache, "I'm fine," he got out.   
  
Her dripping shoes came back into view and he looked up into her face. "Are you sure you're alright? Let me see you to the student med center at least."  
  
By the time the nurse was done checking him out, the woman had already gone.  


* * *

  
When in doubt, Erik knew to go to Emma. Her need to know too much was an incessant thorn in his side, but he knew when to use it to his advantage.  
  
"Little Charlotte?" she said incredulously. "How did you wind up crossing paths with her?"  
  
"I was pushed into the pool."  
  
"I thought you couldn't swim," she replied sipping her smoothie.  
  
"I can't," he said flatly.  
  
" _Oh_ , is that how it is. Well, I've met Charlotte at some of my family's parties." Not a scholarship student like him then, Erik thought. "Very polite, but her step-father gives me the creeps, and I've met quite a few."  
  
He kicked her aluminum chair. "You don't know anything else about her?"   
  
Removing her fuchsia lips from her straw she leaned onto her clasped hands. "Now why do you want to know?" she said with a wicked smile.  


* * *

  
After the pool, he began noticing Charlotte around campus. At the coffee shop note-taking, the promenade reading a book, running across the quad in her lab coat, or on the rare occasion closing her eyes beneath the wisteria.  
  
He did ask some of his other classmates about her, and they all said that while Charlotte was nice enough, she never went to the big campus parties, never said yes to the men and occasional woman who asked her out. She'd never even been seen making out with anyone at the end-of-semester lab party where _everyone_ got so wasted it was almost impossible to leave without someone's lips over your face. It led the men Erik had asked to call her shockingly smart (full-ride scholarship; Erik wondered how she could be from money and still have a scholarship), beautiful, but above all _cold_.  
  
Remembering Charlotte at the edge of the pool, he can't see how anyone can find her cold. And perhaps it is male arrogance, but he wonders if he could bring that spark to her eyes again looking at him.


End file.
